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Speak No Evil
In the long-anticipated novel from the author of the critically acclaimed Beasts of No Nation, a revelation shared between two privileged teenagers from very different backgrounds sets off a chain of events with devastating consequences
On the surface, Niru leads a charmed life. Raised by two attentive parents in Washington, D.C., he’s a top student and a track star at his prestigious private high school. Bound for Harvard in the fall, his prospects are bright. But Niru has a painful secret: he is queer—an abominable sin to his conservative Nigerian parents. No one knows except Meredith, his best friend, the daughter of prominent Washington insiders—and the one person who seems not to judge him.
When his father accidentally discovers Niru is gay, the fallout is brutal and swift. Coping with troubles of her own, however, Meredith finds that she has little left emotionally to offer him. As the two friends struggle to reconcile their desires against the expectations and institutions that seek to define them, they find themselves speeding toward a future more violent and senseless than they can imagine. Neither will escape unscathed.
In the tradition of Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah, Speak No Evil explores what it means to be different in a fundamentally conformist society and how that difference plays out in our inner and outer struggles. It is a novel about the power of words and self-identification, about who gets to speak and who has the power to speak for other people. As heart-wrenching and timely as his breakout debut, Beasts of No Nation, Uzodinma Iweala’s new novel cuts to the core of our humanity and leaves us reeling in its wake.
On the surface, Niru leads a charmed life. Raised by two attentive parents in Washington, D.C., he’s a top student and a track star at his prestigious private high school. Bound for Harvard in the fall, his prospects are bright. But Niru has a painful secret: he is queer—an abominable sin to his conservative Nigerian parents. No one knows except Meredith, his best friend, the daughter of prominent Washington insiders—and the one person who seems not to judge him.
When his father accidentally discovers Niru is gay, the fallout is brutal and swift. Coping with troubles of her own, however, Meredith finds that she has little left emotionally to offer him. As the two friends struggle to reconcile their desires against the expectations and institutions that seek to define them, they find themselves speeding toward a future more violent and senseless than they can imagine. Neither will escape unscathed.
In the tradition of Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah, Speak No Evil explores what it means to be different in a fundamentally conformist society and how that difference plays out in our inner and outer struggles. It is a novel about the power of words and self-identification, about who gets to speak and who has the power to speak for other people. As heart-wrenching and timely as his breakout debut, Beasts of No Nation, Uzodinma Iweala’s new novel cuts to the core of our humanity and leaves us reeling in its wake.
215 pages, Hardcover
First published March 6, 2018
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About the author
Uzodinma Iweala
15 books427 followersUzodinma Iweala is a writer and medical doctor. His first book, Beasts of No Nation: A Novel (HarperCollins, 2005), tells the story of a child soldier in West Africa. His second book, Our Kind of People: Thoughts on HIV/AIDS in Nigeria, will be released in Nigeria, the United Kingdom, and the United States in the summer of 2012. He has also published numerous short stories and essays and has worked in international development on matters of health policy.
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March 10, 2022
Are you lost if you know where you are going—just not how to get there?Niru has a problem. Sure, his parents are well off. Sure, he will be going to Harvard after finishing his senior year at an exclusive private school. Sure, he is a pretty good athlete, more than holding his own on his school’s track team. Sure, he has a great bff in Meredith. Life is good, right? Well, not entirely.
When Meredith moves to increase the level of their relationship, Niru comes out. The core of the novel centers around Niru contending with the challenges of being gay. It does not help that his very conservative Nigerian immigrant family are appalled. His father even assaults him.
Niru is trapped between two worlds, his modern American world, in which homosexuality is becoming increasingly mainstreamed, however terrifying it may be for him to accept his true inclinations, and the old-world values of his Nigerian parents. His father drags him back to Africa, intent on subjecting him to a form of conversion therapy, administered by a friend-of-the-family cleric.
“If you grow up between two places the gap is a blessing and also an inner torment. You want so badly to be of a place but that’s not your lot. When people talk about Nigeria being a difficult place we all complain about it. Listening to the sound of generator, stuck in traffic, suffering inconveniences doesn’t make you feel good. If something happens to me will I get the medical help I need? Every Nigerian is acutely aware of that but other things make it wonderful to live here. You’re around your family. There’s extended family and a sense of community. You’re in a place where you see people hustling and pushing. That gives you energy. - from The Guardian interviewSome of the most warming, and heart-breaking scenes take place in Nigeria, as Niru can see both the dark and bright sides of his African heritage. Niru even makes at least some attempt to heed the conversion advice. He has considerable culturally-supported ambivalence, at times feeling unclean.
Uzodinma Iweala - image from The Guardian
Another thread is the challenge of coping with police while black. We get a hint early when Niru is stopped for speeding (yes, he was) and recalls a tale his older brother told him of having been terrified for his life when stopped by the police.
“I’ve always been interested in the way that people process trauma,” Iweala explains. “This one deals with, in vague terms, police brutality – how individuals and societies process the trauma around them. – from the Guardian interviewThe POV for the first three quarters of the novel is Niru’s. It then switches to his friend, Meredith. While it is not particularly unusual to have a shift in POV, I found it jarring here. An alternating perspective might have worked better. Also, I suspect that this was a residue from a prior structure for the book. A 2011 description of the project, from Iweala’s Radcliffe/Harvard bio, describes the book as
a series of interlinked narratives set in Washington, DC—that explores the themes of choice, freedom, and what we must compromise to live in a secure society. The book follows six different characters as they interact with one another and the city in which they live.While Iweala does indeed look at how characters beyond the primary pair cope, or don’t, with Niru coming out and with the violent episode that takes place later, focus remains very much on Niru and Meredith. While there may have been other main POV characters intended on Iweala’s earlier vision for the book, they have been reduced to supporting players here.
Invisibility is a significant theme throughout the book. For Niru, it is a desired state, so he does not have to cope with taking crap about being gay, from his parents or peers. This is reinforced by a class in which a teacher expresses frustration at his students’ indifference to Ralph Ellison’s classic novel, Invisible Man. Meredith makes herself invisible to Niru for a time.
I had some gripes about the book. Did it really take Niru until he was a high school senior to realize he was gay? I expect folks with personal experience, and those who have read more than I on the subject would have a better idea, but it seems late to me. He is worried about his involuntary reaction to seeing naked boys in the locker room after he comes out to Meredith. But wouldn’t those reactions have been there before, offering a hint? Already noted above is my discomfort with how the POV shift was managed. It felt to me like Speak No Evil was what was left of a larger project that, for whatever reason, remains mostly on the cutting room floor. It did not address the police brutality element nearly well enough. And the depth and diversity of viewpoints that would have made this short book a considerably richer experience were missing, well not missing, but pared down so much as to reduce their impact. It also felt to me that the events leading up to the big event of the book were forced. As if the author had worked the scene backward from the ultimate event, then pondered what it would take for it to develop in the intended way. It did not feel organic. That said, there is some beautiful writing on display. Niru’s struggles through a difficult adjustment are gently and effectively portrayed. This is the man, remember, who wrote the magnificent Beasts of No Nation. Maybe it is a problem of expectation, that his first novel was such a triumph, and very tough to match on the second go round.
Still, Speak No Evil is an interesting read that will certainly add to your appreciation of diverse immigrant experience, and the challenge of straddling two worlds, as an immigrant, a young coming-out gay man, and a young black contending with a hostile constabulary. There are some pieces of beautiful writing here, and a good bit of craft. You will like Niru and care about his journey. I only wish there had been more of it.
Review first posted – 3/2/18
Publication date – 3/6/18
=============================EXTRA STUFF
An excerpt from the book, in The Wall Street Journal
Iweala’s Radcliffe/Harvard bio
Oddly, a short piece Iweala wrote, also called Speak No Evil, from the Summer 2007 Paris Review – issue 181 – it bears no resemblance to the novel
February 27, 2017 - Interview with Iweala from The Guardian
My review of Beasts of No Nation
February 17, 2018
I should start by saying that this is a book with queer suffering front and center. I have more to say later about that, but I want to get it up front. I know there are many other readers, like me, who need to ration out stories of queer suffering. I started this book months ago and had to put it down, always knowing I'd come back to it, but needing to be in a place where it would be easier for me to digest.
This is a lovely book and a difficult one. Niru is not a character we see often. He is upper class, the child of Nigerian immigrants, raised in a conservative Christian faith, a quiet kid in a nice school. Through the book he comes to terms with his own sexual identity and struggles with how to be himself when his family will not allow him to exist as that person. There is a light on the horizon, college just a year away, but for Niru it is impossible to fully imagine his life away from his parents.
Iweala's prose is delicate, tender, and lyrical. It is a book that ebbs and flows, that doesn't feel bound to traditional structures or styles.
The book is notably, purposefully uneven and I'm still not sure what to make of it. It takes a turn near the end, not just in plot but in voice and tone and everything else. It was hard to read the last section of the book, especially since I felt I'd just found a groove with it. But Iweala knows what he's doing and it's up to us to take what he presents us and examine the new set of questions that arise from this last section of the book. What do we owe each other? How do we redefine ourselves after trauma?
As for the place of queer suffering in fiction, we definitely still need it. There is this growing idea among allies that queerness is no longer punished, that it is no longer difficult, that everyone can just happily come out and be out. Queer people know this is not true and it's important to show the ongoing difficulty of queer experience, especially since I suspect many will react to this book by saying its depiction of queer suffering is extreme and unrealistic (it's not). On the other hand, so few queer stories are published and so many of the ones that do make it into book form are about queer suffering that it can feel like all queer reading is designed to hurt you, that these are the only stories we have. It is not the fault of these books, as I've said these stories need to be told. It is the fault of a larger world that still doesn't know how to tell other stories. (The same world in which Octavia Spencer keeps getting cast as a maid or as a suffering woman in the 60's.) We need a lot more queer literature, and that doesn't just mean more sassy gay best friends and well-off cis gay white men. Ideally stories of queer suffering exist in literature as just one segment of a deep well of queer experiences, but we're not there yet.
I'm glad we have this book to add to queer literature, it helps present a picture of queerness, and specifically black queerness, that is still underrepresented. It continues my 2018 streak of highly intersectional reading, a trend I hope continues through the year.
This is a lovely book and a difficult one. Niru is not a character we see often. He is upper class, the child of Nigerian immigrants, raised in a conservative Christian faith, a quiet kid in a nice school. Through the book he comes to terms with his own sexual identity and struggles with how to be himself when his family will not allow him to exist as that person. There is a light on the horizon, college just a year away, but for Niru it is impossible to fully imagine his life away from his parents.
Iweala's prose is delicate, tender, and lyrical. It is a book that ebbs and flows, that doesn't feel bound to traditional structures or styles.
The book is notably, purposefully uneven and I'm still not sure what to make of it. It takes a turn near the end, not just in plot but in voice and tone and everything else. It was hard to read the last section of the book, especially since I felt I'd just found a groove with it. But Iweala knows what he's doing and it's up to us to take what he presents us and examine the new set of questions that arise from this last section of the book. What do we owe each other? How do we redefine ourselves after trauma?
As for the place of queer suffering in fiction, we definitely still need it. There is this growing idea among allies that queerness is no longer punished, that it is no longer difficult, that everyone can just happily come out and be out. Queer people know this is not true and it's important to show the ongoing difficulty of queer experience, especially since I suspect many will react to this book by saying its depiction of queer suffering is extreme and unrealistic (it's not). On the other hand, so few queer stories are published and so many of the ones that do make it into book form are about queer suffering that it can feel like all queer reading is designed to hurt you, that these are the only stories we have. It is not the fault of these books, as I've said these stories need to be told. It is the fault of a larger world that still doesn't know how to tell other stories. (The same world in which Octavia Spencer keeps getting cast as a maid or as a suffering woman in the 60's.) We need a lot more queer literature, and that doesn't just mean more sassy gay best friends and well-off cis gay white men. Ideally stories of queer suffering exist in literature as just one segment of a deep well of queer experiences, but we're not there yet.
I'm glad we have this book to add to queer literature, it helps present a picture of queerness, and specifically black queerness, that is still underrepresented. It continues my 2018 streak of highly intersectional reading, a trend I hope continues through the year.
June 26, 2018
When you’re gay.. you can walk down the street and not particularly stand out.
When you’re black, what you are, is seen on the outside.
Being black, Gay, with roots from Nigeria is a challenging birth card.
Being born a white heterosexual affluent woman - its easy to play a role in the violence thrust upon black men. Frightening!
To me - this is a community book worth talking about. I don’t think it matters how much we like it.....
pimples - flaws - it’s worth reading.
Gut-wrenching...devastating.
Too emotional-‘maddening’-to be boring.
When you’re black, what you are, is seen on the outside.
Being black, Gay, with roots from Nigeria is a challenging birth card.
Being born a white heterosexual affluent woman - its easy to play a role in the violence thrust upon black men. Frightening!
To me - this is a community book worth talking about. I don’t think it matters how much we like it.....
pimples - flaws - it’s worth reading.
Gut-wrenching...devastating.
Too emotional-‘maddening’-to be boring.
June 8, 2019
A sparse novel that tore through my heart in the best way possible, Speak No Evil feels like a grittier, darker version of The Hate U Give and a more modern, intersectional queer coming of age story than Call Me By Your Name. At first I felt distanced from our protagonist Niru, a gay Nigerian Harvard-bound high school senior who has only disclosed his sexuality to his best friend Meredith. But as the book went on the emotions elicited by the narrative - Niru's pain and longing and shame - won me over. Uzodinma Iweala covers a lot of painful ground with Niru's identity, whether his conservative parents try to force the gay out of him or his classmates joke and microagress him about the size of his genitalia. We need more books like Speak No Evil with characters like Niru, who embody multiple underrepresented identities and give voice to the hurt that emerges from when racism, homophobia, and more collide.
Iweala's writing in scenes of high emotional intensity elevated this to a five star novel for me. A scene early on in the novel when Niru's father finds out about Niru's sexuality and attacks Niru made my heart race - the description of Niru's father's hands choking him and Niru trying to talk to his father through his tears got me all wound up. Iweala captures rich emotions in quite a few scenes throughout the book, like when Niru experiences his first gay kiss and the sparks fly. I felt so impressed by how Iweala captured longing and physical craving within Niru and with Niru and his flame. While some critics describe this novel as less polished than Iweala's other work, the book's lack of pretense and its rawness made it even more moving for me, in particular given our protagonist's young age.
Overall, an important novel that I hope will go more noticed, both in the queer community and in communities of color. Not gonna lie, I put off reading this and kinda wanted to dislike it because the author reminds me of my most recent crushwho I need to stop alluding to in my online postings, lol. But, by the end of Speak No Evil, I developed a slight crush on Iweala (sigh) for his ability to express emotions through his characters, his accomplishments, and his earnest acknowledgements section in this book. I will say that I wish Niru and Meredith's friendship had gone deeper, perhaps even with more flashbacks or other scenes that highlighted why they felt so close to one another. Still, I loved the centrality of friendship, race, gender, and sexuality in this novel and I look forward to more from Iweala.
Iweala's writing in scenes of high emotional intensity elevated this to a five star novel for me. A scene early on in the novel when Niru's father finds out about Niru's sexuality and attacks Niru made my heart race - the description of Niru's father's hands choking him and Niru trying to talk to his father through his tears got me all wound up. Iweala captures rich emotions in quite a few scenes throughout the book, like when Niru experiences his first gay kiss and the sparks fly. I felt so impressed by how Iweala captured longing and physical craving within Niru and with Niru and his flame. While some critics describe this novel as less polished than Iweala's other work, the book's lack of pretense and its rawness made it even more moving for me, in particular given our protagonist's young age.
Overall, an important novel that I hope will go more noticed, both in the queer community and in communities of color. Not gonna lie, I put off reading this and kinda wanted to dislike it because the author reminds me of my most recent crush
April 27, 2018
This book was beautifully executed...brilliant, in fact. I can’t elaborate without spoiling it, so I will instead sit in awe of this uniquely structured, gently (and gorgeously) written story that I thought was about one thing but was really about something else. Heartbreaking on so many levels, this will stay with me. 4 stars
August 13, 2018
What's it like to be a teenager who's grown up amid the complicated push-pull of being privileged, American, Nigerian, and gay? Along with Niru, author Iweala does a remarkable job of illustrating characters, each of them good and bad, each of them representative of how mere good intentions are not enough. Audiobook narrators Onayem and Whelan are equally amazing.
May 7, 2018
This one started out with so much promise, but then it took a weird turn, ended abruptly, and left me uncertain if its intended purpose was lost somewhere between the beginning and the end.
Niru is a closeted, Nigerian-American, male. He lives with his parents in an upscale D.C. neighborhood. His friend Meredith is apparently in love with him, but the feeling is not mutual. Once Niru discovers why he's not open to Meredith's advances, he lets her know. Meredith is understanding and supportive, but also heartbroken.
However, once Niru comes to grips with his sexuality, the choices he makes lead him to dark emotional places--especially when his father discovers the truth. Once that happens, Niru is forced to reconcile a desire to remain loved and accepted by his family--a family whose roots stem from a place where homosexuality is still considered criminal and taboo--with a need to experience love.
Meredith is a privileged, but neglected, young girl. Her parents are so busy pursuing their own happiness (personally and professionally), they fail to pay attention to her until an unforeseen tragedy makes them take notice.
By then, Meredith is so emotionally broken and lost it's too late for them to fix her, and their way of cauterizing a horrific situation only leads them further away from their only child.
For the better part of the book, Meredith is presented in such a way that you're not likely to pay her attention until it's impossible not to and, as with her parents, her pivotal place in the story is so shocking--and so despicably disappointing--I nearly stopped reading the book altogether.
Perhaps that was Iweala's intention, to show how easy it can be for someone like Meredith to go unnoticed, but still be a threat where it matters most.
I really don't know.
Honestly, I was hoping for something a lot less cliche, but got something I've (sadly) read too many times before and, honestly, have grown exhausted by--fictional and otherwise.
Niru is a closeted, Nigerian-American, male. He lives with his parents in an upscale D.C. neighborhood. His friend Meredith is apparently in love with him, but the feeling is not mutual. Once Niru discovers why he's not open to Meredith's advances, he lets her know. Meredith is understanding and supportive, but also heartbroken.
However, once Niru comes to grips with his sexuality, the choices he makes lead him to dark emotional places--especially when his father discovers the truth. Once that happens, Niru is forced to reconcile a desire to remain loved and accepted by his family--a family whose roots stem from a place where homosexuality is still considered criminal and taboo--with a need to experience love.
Meredith is a privileged, but neglected, young girl. Her parents are so busy pursuing their own happiness (personally and professionally), they fail to pay attention to her until an unforeseen tragedy makes them take notice.
By then, Meredith is so emotionally broken and lost it's too late for them to fix her, and their way of cauterizing a horrific situation only leads them further away from their only child.
For the better part of the book, Meredith is presented in such a way that you're not likely to pay her attention until it's impossible not to and, as with her parents, her pivotal place in the story is so shocking--and so despicably disappointing--I nearly stopped reading the book altogether.
Perhaps that was Iweala's intention, to show how easy it can be for someone like Meredith to go unnoticed, but still be a threat where it matters most.
I really don't know.
Honestly, I was hoping for something a lot less cliche, but got something I've (sadly) read too many times before and, honestly, have grown exhausted by--fictional and otherwise.
October 8, 2019
I can say with no reservation that this book is going to be in my top five for the year!
Speak No Evil is a beautiful, heart-breaking storm of a novel that brilliantly weaves two powerful and painful narrative threads together. At the heart of the novel is the struggle of Niru, the 18 year old son of upper-class, highly religious African parents, to deal with his recently revealed homosexuality. After a gutpunch of a twist that I won't reveal, the latter half of the novel is told from the POV of Meredith, Niru's close friend who tries to help him along, but fails in the most earth-shattering, irreconcilable way.
It's true that Iweala tells a familiar tale with this novel, but he is able to conjure up such raw, palpable, emotional power that I was left almost gasping for air when I finished. It's a short novel that proves big books aren't always about page counts. I'm spent.
Speak No Evil is a beautiful, heart-breaking storm of a novel that brilliantly weaves two powerful and painful narrative threads together. At the heart of the novel is the struggle of Niru, the 18 year old son of upper-class, highly religious African parents, to deal with his recently revealed homosexuality. After a gutpunch of a twist that I won't reveal, the latter half of the novel is told from the POV of Meredith, Niru's close friend who tries to help him along, but fails in the most earth-shattering, irreconcilable way.
It's true that Iweala tells a familiar tale with this novel, but he is able to conjure up such raw, palpable, emotional power that I was left almost gasping for air when I finished. It's a short novel that proves big books aren't always about page counts. I'm spent.
February 3, 2019
When Niru, a high school senior in Washington who has already been accepted into Harvard, realizes that he is gay, his influential and very religious Nigerian parents are shocked, and his relationship with his best friend Meredith, who was secretly in love with him, becomes complicated. Yes, this is a coming-of-age story, and not a bad one, but it has a distinct YA feel.
The author, Uzodinma Iweala, is himself an American of Nigerian descent with influential parents (a neurosurgeon and the first female Minister of Finance of Nigeria). He also went to a prestigious school in Washington and attended Harvard where he majored in Creative Writing and developed his thesis work into the acclaimed novel Beasts of No Nation. The topics Ieweala discusses in his new book are certainly highly relevant, but this is no subtle writing.
I was also a little bothered when the story, at around 80 % in, changes focus and starts to discuss a completely new social issue - also a relevant one, but I felt like it would have been better to stick to the initial idea and play it out instead of cutting it short after exchanging the protagonist.
This is certainly not a bad book, but it had the potential to be much better.
The author, Uzodinma Iweala, is himself an American of Nigerian descent with influential parents (a neurosurgeon and the first female Minister of Finance of Nigeria). He also went to a prestigious school in Washington and attended Harvard where he majored in Creative Writing and developed his thesis work into the acclaimed novel Beasts of No Nation. The topics Ieweala discusses in his new book are certainly highly relevant, but this is no subtle writing.
I was also a little bothered when the story, at around 80 % in, changes focus and starts to discuss a completely new social issue - also a relevant one, but I felt like it would have been better to stick to the initial idea and play it out instead of cutting it short after exchanging the protagonist.
This is certainly not a bad book, but it had the potential to be much better.
May 23, 2018
“Speak No Evil” by Uzodinma Iweala is a novel that encompasses many themes. Narrator Niru is a first generation Nigerian immigrant who is struggling with his sexuality. His parents are wealthy and he attends a prominent private school. As the story opens, Niru has already been accepted into Harvard on early admission. Niru is a track star, he’s a perfect student, he’s a kid who wants his parents affection. Yet his Christian conservative father is always pushing him to be better, never providing Niru with the support he wants. Author Iweala shows the generational differences of success. He also shows how black immigrants need to be far better to get ahead. Niru’s father constantly reminds Niru that he cannot slide and behave like a white kid.
When Niru’s father finds out that Niru is gay, he is aghast and takes him back to Nigeria to be “fixed”. As Niru fights his own sexuality, he struggles with his identity and his need for his father’s approval. The novel becomes a coming-of-age story of a black immigrant boy who is coming to terms with his gayness/sexuality.
The story comes to a dramatic climax that I didn’t see coming. It’s heart wrenching. This is a short novel, and one that packs an emotional punch. Niru will stay with me for a long time.
When Niru’s father finds out that Niru is gay, he is aghast and takes him back to Nigeria to be “fixed”. As Niru fights his own sexuality, he struggles with his identity and his need for his father’s approval. The novel becomes a coming-of-age story of a black immigrant boy who is coming to terms with his gayness/sexuality.
The story comes to a dramatic climax that I didn’t see coming. It’s heart wrenching. This is a short novel, and one that packs an emotional punch. Niru will stay with me for a long time.
March 26, 2018
Speak No Evil left me gutted, speechless, and heartbroken.
This is a coming of age novel told from two perspectives. First, Niru, a young Nigerian man with a privileged upbringing and extremely strict parents. When Niru's father discovers that he is gay, he takes Niru back to Nigeria to "cleanse him" of this evil. Meredith is Niru's best friend, with emotional struggles of her own. Meredith also comes from a family of privilege, where appearances are everything. One night at a party one mistake leads to devastating consequences for them both.
The writing in this novel is exquisite and I was shocked and horrified by the ending. Iweala has woven an intricate and complicated story that will leave the reader reeling for days.
This is a coming of age novel told from two perspectives. First, Niru, a young Nigerian man with a privileged upbringing and extremely strict parents. When Niru's father discovers that he is gay, he takes Niru back to Nigeria to "cleanse him" of this evil. Meredith is Niru's best friend, with emotional struggles of her own. Meredith also comes from a family of privilege, where appearances are everything. One night at a party one mistake leads to devastating consequences for them both.
The writing in this novel is exquisite and I was shocked and horrified by the ending. Iweala has woven an intricate and complicated story that will leave the reader reeling for days.
May 31, 2018
ALL THE STARS and officially on my Best of 2018 list. Brief, searing and intensely readable, I must insist that every. single. one. of you read. this. book. I picked it up at lunch one day to try to at least get a start on it for the May @words.between.worlds (Instagram) discussion and finished it at 6 am the next day while walking the dogs. Because I couldn’t stop, even though I wanted the pain of the narrative to stop. If that makes sense?
(NOTE: this may be about teens but it is NOT a YA book. At all.)
(NOTE: this may be about teens but it is NOT a YA book. At all.)
March 17, 2019
The writing was good here, but the structure of the story needed work. The first part dealt with the son of successful immigrants coming to terms with his sexuality. The second part abruptly changed focus to race relations in the US. The stories were related, but the focus was different in each. Either story on its own would have been great, but I didn’t like the abrupt switch between them.
April 30, 2020
Gorgeously written and really emotional.
May 11, 2018
This book reminds you that sometimes life holds unforgettable, irreversible devastation and heartache. I think this book could have gone further into satisfying, healing terrain. But it takes courage to understand that there may not be room yet for that kind of forgiveness or resolution in this particular story. Words take time. Until then we may have to exist in the silence, the refrain, the omission, the surrender. Let us hope we eventually find the words.
May 31, 2018
Did I really finish Speak No Evil the same day that I started it? Yes, yes I did.
This book is not one to be taken, or read, lightly. This book will snatch up your attention and drag you right in. And it will hold it. I'll admit the beginning was slow and a little off-putting for me but quickly began speaking to my heart. I ended with tears in my eyes and anguish in my heart. 4 stars.
This book is not one to be taken, or read, lightly. This book will snatch up your attention and drag you right in. And it will hold it. I'll admit the beginning was slow and a little off-putting for me but quickly began speaking to my heart. I ended with tears in my eyes and anguish in my heart. 4 stars.
August 2, 2018
I have been on an audiobook roll lately and hope to keep up the momentum. I am one who prefers to read an actual book, but likes to listen to audiobooks during my drives (or to make doing chores more bearable). There have been a few times where I felt that I had a better experience listening rather than reading and this here is one of them!
Narrator Prentice Onayemi starts the first part of this book and he was absolute perfection. I felt as though I was listening to Prentice – as Niru – tell me his story; as if I was grabbing coffee with him and we were engaged in a conversation. He made Niru real, lent a voice to his story and his family. My goodness was this story beautifully written: there is no doubt that author Iweala is extremely talented.
Niru and Meredith are best friends, both living in wealthy neighborhoods, both with parents that do not understand them; but one set is absent and the other overbearing. Both teenagers crave acceptance and feeling, it will be their unraveling.
After Niru tells Meredith he is gay, his quiet internal life becomes quiet externally as well. He is angry, sad, alone. His religious, homophobic father will find out and Niru will blame Meredith, causing Niru to lose his only person in this world – now more alone and misunderstood than ever.
When the audiobook cuts to Part II: ‘Meredith’ about ¾ of the way through I was confused and actually scared. The events that will happen are not what I expected; goodness did it knock me off my axis a bit. You will not be able to stop and pause without listening to the last 1.5 hours – you just can’t.
If you are in the market for an audiobook, want to try an audiobook, heck even if you don’t like audiobooks – I recommend you give this one a go. Narrator Prentice Onayemi will win you over in less than 1 minute.
Narrator Prentice Onayemi starts the first part of this book and he was absolute perfection. I felt as though I was listening to Prentice – as Niru – tell me his story; as if I was grabbing coffee with him and we were engaged in a conversation. He made Niru real, lent a voice to his story and his family. My goodness was this story beautifully written: there is no doubt that author Iweala is extremely talented.
Niru and Meredith are best friends, both living in wealthy neighborhoods, both with parents that do not understand them; but one set is absent and the other overbearing. Both teenagers crave acceptance and feeling, it will be their unraveling.
After Niru tells Meredith he is gay, his quiet internal life becomes quiet externally as well. He is angry, sad, alone. His religious, homophobic father will find out and Niru will blame Meredith, causing Niru to lose his only person in this world – now more alone and misunderstood than ever.
When the audiobook cuts to Part II: ‘Meredith’ about ¾ of the way through I was confused and actually scared. The events that will happen are not what I expected; goodness did it knock me off my axis a bit. You will not be able to stop and pause without listening to the last 1.5 hours – you just can’t.
If you are in the market for an audiobook, want to try an audiobook, heck even if you don’t like audiobooks – I recommend you give this one a go. Narrator Prentice Onayemi will win you over in less than 1 minute.
April 5, 2022
This striking 2018 novel has sat on my TBR shelf for too long and is my first experience with Nigerian-American writer, Uzodinma Iweala. Set in Washington D.C, we meet Nigerian-American teenager, Niru who struggles with the world he is growing up in and the world his very conservative parents wish to maintain. Overall, it's a life that he is relatively happy with until he meets Meredith. Meredith’s touch is different: Niru wants to want it. But finally, he admits that, despite every effort, he doesn’t: “Meredith, I think — I’m gay.”
Meredith is a very understanding friend and wants to help Niru find love but Niru's father reacts dramatically when he finds out and decides to send Niru to Nigeria to be "healed of his infliction." It's all quite shocking and things seem to go downhill for Niru after this. I won't say anymore as I want to avoid spoilers.
Some books just make a reader feel a sadness that hollows us out. After reading this book, I couldn't pick up another for 1-2 days. I think I just had to sit with and mull over the storyline. Even now, I feel at a loss for words but I know this will be a book that will always linger in my memory.
Goodreads review published 05/04/22
Meredith is a very understanding friend and wants to help Niru find love but Niru's father reacts dramatically when he finds out and decides to send Niru to Nigeria to be "healed of his infliction." It's all quite shocking and things seem to go downhill for Niru after this. I won't say anymore as I want to avoid spoilers.
Some books just make a reader feel a sadness that hollows us out. After reading this book, I couldn't pick up another for 1-2 days. I think I just had to sit with and mull over the storyline. Even now, I feel at a loss for words but I know this will be a book that will always linger in my memory.
Goodreads review published 05/04/22
February 26, 2018
This slim volume packs a wallop. It's a moving gay coming-of-age story, a story about the ups and downs of close friendships, a look at contemporary racial and gender politics, and a beautiful exploration of the sacrifices we all make to fit into our communities—whatever those may be.
Of the two parts, I was partial to Meredith's. That's where, for me, the book took on a larger significance. Of the two voices, though, I preferred Niru's. *Spoilers Ahead* Niru's section initially left me feeling like I'd read it before. I thought, oh, here we go, another story about being gay in a conservative family, but then after reading Meredith's section I looked at it in a different light. Iweala's book masquerades as a gay coming-of-age story but is really about violence against young black men. Looking at it that way, I thought it was a pretty clever way to talk about a lot of different things at once. And having the shooting and the aftermath come from Meredith allowed us access to an angle that doesn't get a lot of play. It allowed for a lot of complicated emotions and even redeemed the father's character in a way that I don't think would've been possible had the story not made the pivot it did. Overall, a speedy, gripping read.
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
Of the two parts, I was partial to Meredith's. That's where, for me, the book took on a larger significance. Of the two voices, though, I preferred Niru's. *Spoilers Ahead* Niru's section initially left me feeling like I'd read it before. I thought, oh, here we go, another story about being gay in a conservative family, but then after reading Meredith's section I looked at it in a different light. Iweala's book masquerades as a gay coming-of-age story but is really about violence against young black men. Looking at it that way, I thought it was a pretty clever way to talk about a lot of different things at once. And having the shooting and the aftermath come from Meredith allowed us access to an angle that doesn't get a lot of play. It allowed for a lot of complicated emotions and even redeemed the father's character in a way that I don't think would've been possible had the story not made the pivot it did. Overall, a speedy, gripping read.
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
June 14, 2018
WOW. I finished this book and I sat staring in space for a good 20mins. I could do nothing else except mediate on what I just read. This is a solid 5 star, must read book. I am absolutely astounding as to how such a short story packs an unbelievable punch. This book tackles so many issues in the short amount of pages and does it in the most beautiful way.
Set in Washington D.C., "Speak No Evil" is about Niru, an overachieving young man to two wealthy Nigerian parents. Niru's got it all, he is a star athlete, on his way to Harvard and by all means, his future is bright, except he is struggling with letting everyone around him know his is gay, especially his parents. His best friends Meredith knows his secret and doesn't judge him for it. However, when Niru's father finds out he is gay, everything went downhill....fast.
I could write a book on how gorgeous Iweala prose is but I am not a writer. I felt this book in my core. I was left wanting, there needs to be a follow up novel to this.
While this novel is short in pages, it is long in heartache.
A must read for me.
Set in Washington D.C., "Speak No Evil" is about Niru, an overachieving young man to two wealthy Nigerian parents. Niru's got it all, he is a star athlete, on his way to Harvard and by all means, his future is bright, except he is struggling with letting everyone around him know his is gay, especially his parents. His best friends Meredith knows his secret and doesn't judge him for it. However, when Niru's father finds out he is gay, everything went downhill....fast.
I could write a book on how gorgeous Iweala prose is but I am not a writer. I felt this book in my core. I was left wanting, there needs to be a follow up novel to this.
While this novel is short in pages, it is long in heartache.
A must read for me.
February 1, 2019
There were many effective scenes throughout the novel but also more than a few that misfired. Transitions between the vignettes were awkward to nonexistent, which only underscored the sense that this was a cut-and-paste creation. Still, the writing was often excellent.
3.5 stars
3.5 stars
January 1, 2019
This is a short (207 pages) but powerful novel. I’ve tried to write a review several times but have found it nearly impossible not to reveal spoilers. There’s a book I want to compare it to that would totally say too much so I’ll confine myself to a secondary story line.
There are 2 parts to the book, two voices and both are in the first person.
The first narrator is Niru, an 18yo Nigerian boy who came to America at a young age so culturally he is more American than Nigerian. He’s confused about his sexuality and that confusion sows the seed of what happens in the rest of the book.
Meredith is Niru’s best friend but she wants more….she too is confused, as most teenagers are, and her actions have devastating consequences.
I continue to be amazed at what Iweala was able to convey in what amounts to a novella. He will take your mind in his hands and show you your biases, your ignorance and how when you “think you know” you really haven’t a clue. This was a great and fitting conclusion to 2018….highly recommend in either audio or print....both work.
There are 2 parts to the book, two voices and both are in the first person.
The first narrator is Niru, an 18yo Nigerian boy who came to America at a young age so culturally he is more American than Nigerian. He’s confused about his sexuality and that confusion sows the seed of what happens in the rest of the book.
Meredith is Niru’s best friend but she wants more….she too is confused, as most teenagers are, and her actions have devastating consequences.
I continue to be amazed at what Iweala was able to convey in what amounts to a novella. He will take your mind in his hands and show you your biases, your ignorance and how when you “think you know” you really haven’t a clue. This was a great and fitting conclusion to 2018….highly recommend in either audio or print....both work.
May 2, 2018
A heartbreaking story of a young black male struggling with his sexuality, friendships as well as existing in his community & a strict privileged Nigerian family. This was an intense read focusing on gender and racial politics. I found myself quite angry during the second half of the book. However, I loved that the story was told from two perspectives (Niru,a young black man and Meredith, a white female) & takes place in Washington DC. It’s always nice to recognize familiar places that you see often. Put this on your to read list, it’s a must read!
September 24, 2019
Może to kwestia zbyt wysokich oczekiwań, podbudowanych wielkimi słowami, zamieszczonymi z tyłu książki. A może sama się oszukałam, spodziewając się książki idealnie wstrzelającej się w mój gust i poruszającej tematy, które wyjątkowo mnie ostatnio interesują. I tak jak druga część tego zdania sprawia, że widzę w Ani złego słowa plusy, tak sama „literackość” tej pozycji jest rozczarowująca. Zabieg schowania dialogów do tekstu ciągłego wydawał mi się ciekawy, odrobinkę zbliżył narrację do czegoś w rodzaju ciągłego wewnętrznego monologu, może nawet narodził się w ten sposób bardzo daleki kuzyn strumienia świadomości. Mówię daleko, ponieważ wywody prowadzone przez autora są jednak zbyt uporządkowane, zbyt przemyślane, by mówić o tradycyjnym strumieniu.
Całość wypada jednak szalenie... sucho. Skrótowo. Brakuje tu jakiejś głębi, błyskotliwości, która niekiedy przez ten tekst przenika, ale nie na tyle by intrygować czytelnika przez cały czas lektury.
Zbyt mało czasu autor poświęca wielu zagadnieniom, zaledwie je muskając, rzucając kilka myśli i pozostawiając je ot tak.
Trudno mi się recenzuję ten tytuł. Cały czas, stukając w klawiaturę, zastanawiam się, czy jest tu może jeszcze coś, czego nie zauważyłam, jakiś motyw, jakiś trop, który przeoczyłam w trakcie czytania, a który powinnam docenić. To co zrobiło na mnie największe wrażenie to chyba jednak wątek podjęty pod sam koniec, ale ponownie, opisany dość pospiesznie, żeby nie powiedzieć - niedbale. Chodzi tu mianowicie o kwestię konfliktu powstałego w dość specyficznym układzie: czarnoskóry mężczyzna - biała kobieta - policja. Cały ten trójkąt otaczają media, podburzając niepewność, brak zaufania i agresję, wymuszając niejako zmianę postrzegania problemu, dopisywanie scenariusza, uniemożliwiając tym samym uczciwe i sprawiedliwe rozwiązanie owego konfliktu. Jest to kwestia bardzo bliska Amerykanom, nie tak bliska Polakom, ale nie ma to akurat w tym przypadku większego znaczenia. Wrażliwy, świadomy czytelnik będzie rozumiał tę kwestię bez względu na pochodzenie. To, czego może nie zrozumieć, to fakt, dlaczego została ona poruszona w tak „zaangażowanej” powieści właściwie mimochodem.
Całość wypada jednak szalenie... sucho. Skrótowo. Brakuje tu jakiejś głębi, błyskotliwości, która niekiedy przez ten tekst przenika, ale nie na tyle by intrygować czytelnika przez cały czas lektury.
Zbyt mało czasu autor poświęca wielu zagadnieniom, zaledwie je muskając, rzucając kilka myśli i pozostawiając je ot tak.
Trudno mi się recenzuję ten tytuł. Cały czas, stukając w klawiaturę, zastanawiam się, czy jest tu może jeszcze coś, czego nie zauważyłam, jakiś motyw, jakiś trop, który przeoczyłam w trakcie czytania, a który powinnam docenić. To co zrobiło na mnie największe wrażenie to chyba jednak wątek podjęty pod sam koniec, ale ponownie, opisany dość pospiesznie, żeby nie powiedzieć - niedbale. Chodzi tu mianowicie o kwestię konfliktu powstałego w dość specyficznym układzie: czarnoskóry mężczyzna - biała kobieta - policja. Cały ten trójkąt otaczają media, podburzając niepewność, brak zaufania i agresję, wymuszając niejako zmianę postrzegania problemu, dopisywanie scenariusza, uniemożliwiając tym samym uczciwe i sprawiedliwe rozwiązanie owego konfliktu. Jest to kwestia bardzo bliska Amerykanom, nie tak bliska Polakom, ale nie ma to akurat w tym przypadku większego znaczenia. Wrażliwy, świadomy czytelnik będzie rozumiał tę kwestię bez względu na pochodzenie. To, czego może nie zrozumieć, to fakt, dlaczego została ona poruszona w tak „zaangażowanej” powieści właściwie mimochodem.
May 31, 2018
Full REVIEW - https://africanbookaddict.com/2018/05...
sigh...
White Lies Cost Black Lives.
sigh...
White Lies Cost Black Lives.
May 24, 2018
I knew that when the narrator changed to the main character's little white friend, this book would go downhill fast. I wondered why she would take center stage in a story about this boy coming to terms with his sexuality? If you've had enough police brutality and Black misery porn in real life...skip this one.
I also found the writing style hard to read, without speech punctuation. There were too many long conversations for this.
I also found the writing style hard to read, without speech punctuation. There were too many long conversations for this.
June 21, 2020
3.5 stars // This book did something I wish it didn't do. Although Part 2 is well written and devastating, this section is about a totally different subject matter. Several themes from Part 1 get cast aside; never to be explored again. Speak No Evil is a compelling novel, but I had some issues.
August 30, 2019
To jest krótka historia, opowiedziana dwoma głosami, które splatają się w jeden, a jego brzmienie porusza do głębi. Niru jest uosobieniem problemów, z którymi stara się uporać nie garstka, ale niezliczona ilość osób na świecie. "Ani złego słowa" jest powieścią ważną i potrzebną: jej fundament postawiony jest na wierze w wykreowany przez zamknięte umysły światopogląd, a sama historia udaną próbą jego obalenia. Mierzymy się tutaj z niedopuszczeniem do siebie istnienia homoseksualizmu jako integralnej części człowieka, a także (wciąż) z portretem człowieka czarnoskórego, którego stereotypizacja doprowadzić może do niechybnej katastrofy. Powieść dająca do myślenia, poruszająca i warta uwagi!
October 24, 2019
Jak te trzy mądre małpy z japońskiego przysłowia: nie widzą nic złego, nie słyszą nic złego, nie mówią nic złego. Ani złego słowa.
Czy wystarczy zamknąć oczy, zakryć usta i zatkać uszy, by zło wokół nas nie istniało?
To historia bardzo trudna. O akceptacji, tolerancji i ich braku. O chłopaku z Nigerii, który całe życie musi znosić pokazywanie palcami i ostre spojrzenia ze względu na swoje pochodzenie i kolor skóry. I wie, że teraz ilość tego skierowanego w niego hejtu wzrośnie, ponieważ dociera do niego, że jest gejem.
Oczywiście powieść posługuje się pewnymi stereotypami: sama kwestia pokazania tego, że jakakolwiek inność jest innością. Że osoby o innym kolorze skóry czy innej orientacji są "innymi". Ale przecież tak samo my jesteśmy "innymi" dla nich. Czy naprawdę wciąż trzeba na każdym kroku pokazywać te różnice i oddzielać jednych od drugich? Nie możemy być wszyscy po prostu ludźmi?
Tak jednak wygląda nasz świat, kultura, media. Wciąż nie każdy jest w wystarczającym stopniu tolerancyjny. I to w tej książce widać: rodzice niekoniecznie będą wspierać swoje dziecko; religia wciąż uważa homoseksualizm za grzech i stara się ją wyplenić egzorcyzmami; policja wciąż inaczej traktuje zatrzymanego czarnoskórego. W człowieku naprawdę może się coś zagotować, gdy czyta i widzi, co się dzieje; gdy widzi, jak wszyscy wokół robią wodę z mózgu nastolatkowi, który nie wie już, jak powinien, a jak chce myśleć.
Do tego narracja. Początkowo stanowiła dla mnie wadę, bo nie obyło się bez przekleństw, a do tego brak w zapisie typowych dialogów, a jedynie parafrazowane wypowiedzi. Często chaos. Ale to dodaje klimatu. Tylko w ten sposób zobaczymy prawdziwe myśli tego chłopaka. Chaos w narracji jest jednocześnie chaosem w jego głowie.
Ale to, czego faktycznie najbardziej mi brakowało, to pewnego rodzaju bardziej wyrazisty morał. Skoro, rozpoczynając od tytułu, nawiązujemy do trzech mądrych małp, chciałabym, by bardziej uwidoczniono informację, że od nas samych też coś zależy. Że to nie tylko historia obcego człowieka, że wystarczyło odsłonić oczy. Że od nas, od tego jak się zachowujemy i jak reagujemy, też coś zależy, bo – chcąc nie chcąc – dajemy społeczeństwu informację zwrotną. Ale może tak właśnie funkcjonują ludzie. Wolą nie słyszeć. Nie widzieć. Nie mówić. Ani złego słowa. Bo może tak czasami jest lepiej.
Więcej w video: https://youtu.be/ZcbCFNGPKh4
Czy wystarczy zamknąć oczy, zakryć usta i zatkać uszy, by zło wokół nas nie istniało?
To historia bardzo trudna. O akceptacji, tolerancji i ich braku. O chłopaku z Nigerii, który całe życie musi znosić pokazywanie palcami i ostre spojrzenia ze względu na swoje pochodzenie i kolor skóry. I wie, że teraz ilość tego skierowanego w niego hejtu wzrośnie, ponieważ dociera do niego, że jest gejem.
Oczywiście powieść posługuje się pewnymi stereotypami: sama kwestia pokazania tego, że jakakolwiek inność jest innością. Że osoby o innym kolorze skóry czy innej orientacji są "innymi". Ale przecież tak samo my jesteśmy "innymi" dla nich. Czy naprawdę wciąż trzeba na każdym kroku pokazywać te różnice i oddzielać jednych od drugich? Nie możemy być wszyscy po prostu ludźmi?
Tak jednak wygląda nasz świat, kultura, media. Wciąż nie każdy jest w wystarczającym stopniu tolerancyjny. I to w tej książce widać: rodzice niekoniecznie będą wspierać swoje dziecko; religia wciąż uważa homoseksualizm za grzech i stara się ją wyplenić egzorcyzmami; policja wciąż inaczej traktuje zatrzymanego czarnoskórego. W człowieku naprawdę może się coś zagotować, gdy czyta i widzi, co się dzieje; gdy widzi, jak wszyscy wokół robią wodę z mózgu nastolatkowi, który nie wie już, jak powinien, a jak chce myśleć.
Do tego narracja. Początkowo stanowiła dla mnie wadę, bo nie obyło się bez przekleństw, a do tego brak w zapisie typowych dialogów, a jedynie parafrazowane wypowiedzi. Często chaos. Ale to dodaje klimatu. Tylko w ten sposób zobaczymy prawdziwe myśli tego chłopaka. Chaos w narracji jest jednocześnie chaosem w jego głowie.
Ale to, czego faktycznie najbardziej mi brakowało, to pewnego rodzaju bardziej wyrazisty morał. Skoro, rozpoczynając od tytułu, nawiązujemy do trzech mądrych małp, chciałabym, by bardziej uwidoczniono informację, że od nas samych też coś zależy. Że to nie tylko historia obcego człowieka, że wystarczyło odsłonić oczy. Że od nas, od tego jak się zachowujemy i jak reagujemy, też coś zależy, bo – chcąc nie chcąc – dajemy społeczeństwu informację zwrotną. Ale może tak właśnie funkcjonują ludzie. Wolą nie słyszeć. Nie widzieć. Nie mówić. Ani złego słowa. Bo może tak czasami jest lepiej.
Więcej w video: https://youtu.be/ZcbCFNGPKh4
June 17, 2018
Although this book follows the new trend of using no quotation marks and running long paragraphs (as did an earlier book that I didn't like), I did like this one a great deal. There's much more clarity as to who is speaking and what's happening, probably because the vast majority of the novel is told in real time. It's a combination coming-of-age and coming-out-as-gay, and it involves a Nigerian-American boy, his parents, the girl who has loved him forever, and her family. It leads up to an unexpected tragedy which is all-too-common today in our country. I recommend it. It's a slim volume, but it packs a real punch.
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